


Fracas

by WildexXx



Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-10-26 09:43:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10784310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildexXx/pseuds/WildexXx
Summary: After the horrendous events of 2014-15, how was Jeremy Clarkson supposed to cope? He shuddered to think of how things would have panned out if it were not for James May.





	1. Chapter 1

AN: I obviously do not own any of the people mentioned. I included actual people who have passed away well before I wrote this. Jeremy was close to them, hence why they were written in. I do not mean to offend anyone with these mentions. I've noticed that some other people have done a similar story line. I've had ideas for this fic for some time, so I assure you that the ideas here are of my own making. This story is the sequel to _Tea and Ashes_ , but it can be read seperately. As for dates and times, I did my best to get them right. Some are based on tweets, others on news articles and interviews. The rest, I took an educated guess. I hope you enjoy!!

 

 

 

Ideas about the upcoming series were rolling through Jeremy Clarkson’s head as he rode in a cab to his London flat. It was a cool January night. He was just leaving a production meeting with Andy, James, and Richard, which consisted largely of drinking and scrambling for something to film and quickly.  Aside from discussing the content of the upcoming series, they had decided to soon start the live tour. Filming during the day, performance in the evening, and a drink before bed. Jeremy took a deep breath. The crunch time for this series had approached much faster than any of them had anticipated. Of course, the rising amount of stress in his life didn’t help slow things down. He and his wife, Francie, had been shorter with one another over the last few months. On top of that, his mother wasn’t in the best form. He knew the breast cancer would eventually win; it was just a matter of time. His eldest daughter, Emily, had left the nest, and his two younger children, Finlo and Katya were off at boarding school.  His worries tended to ambush like this when he had a quiet moment to think- one reason he had kept himself so busy as of late.

 _I’ll give Francie a call when I get back to the flat._  He had decided that arguing was better than all of the black dogs sitting on his shoulders. While he rode, he decided to send her a quick text.

 **Walking home from the pub. Productive night. If you’re awake, can I call in a bit?** He had ridden a few blocks before he received a response.

 **Awake now. Everything ok? Have something planned for TG**? He could tell by the way she typed that she was annoyed. Above all, Jeremy was surprised she had actually asked about the meeting. Over the years, he had noticed was growing more and more weary and resentful of the program, as it took most of his time and attention. Deciding not to push it further, he sent out another text:

 **Maybe. I’ll tell you later if you’re interested. I’ll let you sleep. Goodnight** xxx

He was turning the key to the flat when his phone vibrated with a goodnight message from Francie. His thoughts continued to swirl through his head as he poured a glass of rose wine and sat at the computer. He still needed to have at least two out of three drafts written for his columns by tomorrow. Or, at least, that was his goal. He stared at the screen and thought about something to write about. One would obviously be focused on the car he was testing this week. How would he describe it?  He had no idea what to write for the mag. The third, he decided, would focus on his personal life.

_Bad idea._

He decided to write about fox hunting or something. He checked the time: 02:00. He could crank out the columns, he decided. Thanks to insomnia and stress, he’d probably be up either way.

 

  
James was the first one to greet Jeremy as the taller man sat on the sofa next to James in the poratkabin. “You’re late, Clarkson,” he said, sipping his tea.

“You’re late, Clarkson,” he said, sipping his tea.

“And you’re a Bovril-obsessed, homoerotic egg.” Richard, who had been fiddling with the coffee machine, laughed.

“What does that even mean, mate?” he asked, sitting beside Jeremy. “God, you look awful. Didn’t sleep, did you?”

“Not at all.” It had been a little over a week since he had seen either of his colleagues. Richard looked well-rested and rejuvenated. James, however… “James, you look particularly shit today.”

“I had a rough night. Had to finish my article, as well as throw something together for that damn Bentley Continental segment. It was hell, but all is finished.”

“Have a coffee,” Richard suggested.

“Disgusting," James said, but standing to get one nevertheless. Jeremy was already standing before James could finish the word. He had left his coffee on the breakfast table back in Chipping Norton. If he hadn’t already been running late, he would have stopped for some on the way.

“Grab your coffee and get your arse in makeup,” James said. “We’re ready to go.”

The day’s filming was worse than Jeremy had expected. James was struggling to remember his lines, the rain was picking up, and Richard was coming very close to losing his temper. After a full day’s work, only about half an hour of the film could be used. Jeremy was propped up against his car, smoking a cigarette and texting Francie that he would be home in a little over two hours.

“Clarkson!” James called, walking across the carpark. “I’m going to the pub and Hammond's already buggered off. Want to come?”

“What about Andy and Ian?”

“Both claim to be exhausted. Hell, I am too, but I won’t let that stop me from having a pint.”

“Don’t know, May. I have a two-hour drive,” he said, putting his cigarette out on the ground. He was genuinely tempted to have a nice drink.

“Suit yourself,” James said shrugging.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jeremy sighed, climbing into his car. Once, they had both left Dunsfold, Clarkson rung up James. “So, which pub? Your local?”

“Mmm,” James confirmed.

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Right.”

Once Jeremy had parked, he sent out a text to Francie.

**Hey, love. I’m going to the pub w/ James. Long day, need a drink. I’ll let you know if I’m coming home or staying here. xxx**

James waved him over to where he sat.

“I've already grabbed you a drink. That piss water, yes?”

“And let me guess, you’ll be drinking that London Pride shit?” James just smiled as he took a sip of the drink, turning it so the logo faced Jeremy.  “Product placement,” Clarkson whispered with a smile, sipping his drink. They started t discuss the endless torture that had been that day’s filming.

“I have no idea where those lines had gone. I had spent hours studying them,” May admitted, obviously still annoyed with himself.

“It seemed like you were ten miles away for most of the shoot. More so than usual, obviously.”

“Two hour’s sleep isn’t the best fuel for concentration.”

“You’re telling me,” Clarkson chuckled. He rubbed his chin, the barely visible stubble scratching his skin. “I got about the same.”

“It’s been a rough week,” James mumbled into his glass.

“It’s only Monday,” Jeremy said with a light wheeze of resigned laughter.

“Bloody hell.”

“I know what you mean,” Jeremy said, shaking his head. Just then his phone vibrated, alerting him of a new text.

**I would rather you home tonight, but okay. Let me know what you decide. Don’t get too clattered if you’re going to drive. x**

Jeremy let out a small sigh. _She can be so damn passive aggressive. I should probably go home._

“Who is it?”

“Francie.”

“Ohhh,” James said. “Not happy?”

“Not very. If I know her, she’s probably seething. We were supposed to have a night.”

“Why did you come here then, you big clot?”

“The choices were either have a drink with a mate or have another argument which will lead to me sleeping on the sofa. The latter didn’t really appeal to me. If I’m going to sleep on the sofa, I want to earn it.”

“Why would you argue? I’m sure if you know there’s a possibility you can keep your big mouth shut and avoid one.” Jeremy quirked an eyebrow and James smiled. “Right. Forgot who I was talking to for a moment.” They sat in silence for a bit. Jeremy surveyed the room; it wasn’t terribly busy. Then again, it was Monday. He really liked this pub. It was a bit posh for his taste but generally nice. His eyes traced the room, eventually landing on James. He had taken out his phone and typed away before setting it on the table. In the middle of a conversation, the phone vibrated and James checked it.  A small smile had spread on his face. Jeremy gave him a slightly curious glance.

“A friend,” James said simply. “Anyway, how’s for another drink?”

“May, how do you keep forgetting who it is you're talking to?”

“I didn’t know if you were planning on driving home, or what.”

“Oh. I’ll probably just stay at the flat. With a cab, it’s only about a fifteen minute drive.”

“Awesome sauce.”

“Stop.”

“Sorry,” James said with a laugh. “Just seeing if I can integrate it into my speech.”

“Please don’t,” Jeremy smiled. They continued to drink, both deciding to have a meal as well. Before they had realised, nearly three hours had passed. Jeremy hadn’t paced himself with the drinking; he started to call a cab when James stopped him.

“You can just stay at mine. Barely a mile away. Plus, we can pick up your car in the morning,” he said.

“Sounds great. Thanks, May.”

“Sure. Just don’t get too comfortable. Wouldn’t want you over all the time.” The walk to James’s was made slightly difficult from the alcohol, but the two laughed their way through. Once home, James went to the kitchen and made them both a cup of tea to somewhat steady themselves. Jeremy sat on the sofa and checking Twitter when he felt his now barefoot step on something rather sharp in the carpet.

“James? James, why do you have earrings in your carpet?”

“Sorry?” James asked coming from the kitchen with the tea. He placed them on the table and sat in the chair a few feet away.

“You had an earring embedded in your carpet. Just nearly pierced my foot.” Jeremy gave it to James to observe. “Are you moonlighting as some old woman drag queen? They’re pretty hideous. Mother’s?”

“No, they’re not.”

“Not yours, are they?” Jeremy joked.

“Before you nag me, it meant absolutely nothing. We both wanted company for a night and that’s all.”

“Sarah?" Jeremy asked. When James did not respond, he sighed. "Well, that’s your decision. I wouldn’t do it. Opens too many wounds.” James looked slightly annoyed at this statement.

“We finished it over two years ago, Clarkson. Neither of us is in a relationship. It was more convenient for me to just call her, invite her over, and have sex with her rather than find someone else. Sarah knows me, she knows what I like. It’s so much easier to have sex with someone who knows which buttons to press and which to avoid.”

“Hey, you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Jeremy said, putting his hands up.

“Well, I do, because I know you think I’ll fall in love with her all over again and that sort of tosh. It won’t happen, Clarkson. If you remember, I’m the one who broke it off.”

“The lady doth protest too much,” Jeremy mumbled, taking a sip of tea. “You didn’t have any coffee? This tea is disgusting.”

“No, as I do not drink it. That tea is fantastic, you just don’t like tea, you pillock.”

“No need to be testy,” Jeremy said. His tone changed to one of friendly concern. “I just want you to be careful with Sarah. You two have a rather long history and you’ve been… You know… This happened before and it didn't work out.” he said, rushing the last part.

"Sarah and I only ended it once... What are you-" James was cut off by his own realisation of what Jeremy had been referring to. He paused. “Right, thank you. I hate this emotion rubbish. I think I’ll turn in for the night.”

“Why don’t we watch a movie? Battle of Britain?” It had been over twenty years since he had suggested that to James. He could see a quick flash of something on James’s face before the expression disappeared. It was in his eyes more than anywhere else. May did a good job of recovering quickly.

“I’m exhausted. Need to catch up on time lost. And, ‘above all, a desire of oblivion runs.’”

“Did you just quote something?”

“Yes.”

“Thought so.”

“Philip Larkin, ‘Wan-“

“Didn’t ask,” Jeremy said with a smile. “I’ll talk to you in the morning. Thanks again, May.”

“‘Course. G’night,” James said, leaving his friend in the sitting room. It wasn’t long after that Jeremy had decided to make his way to the guest room. Once there, he started to take off his clothes. He hoped in vain that James might have a spare bit of sleep clothes. He did the only reasonable thing a proper bloke would do in this situation: he went completely nude. The cold sheets felt amazing against his skin. Faintly, he could hear the sound of the shower running a room over and cursed. He felt disgusting. Setting his alarm for half an hour earlier, he decided then would be a good time for a quick shower. It wasn’t soon after he was falling asleep.

_“Phillipa… Stop. I can’t…”_

_“You can,” the pretty blonde woman whispered, leaning into Jeremy. Her hand started to trail down his chest._

_“No. No, I can’t. I’m married…”_

_“I won’t say anything if you don’t.” She let her hand trail further down to the waist of his jeans. “What Francie doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Come on, Jeremy. I have a surprise for you. Don’t you want it?”_

_“No, Phillipa, I-"_

_“Jeremy,” a warm voice interrupted. It was from someone behind him, whispering in his ear. It was deep and distorted, yet still familiar. He felt another pair of hands, larger ones, move from his hips downward and towards the front of his jeans. They were so close to cupping his growing bulge._

The beeping of his alarm woke him right before he could quite place the voice. He shifted to turn off the alarm and realised that the dream had awakened parts of him before the rest. Climbing out of bed and opening the door, he peeked his head around to make sure the halls were James-free. Quickly, he ran to the bathroom and shut the door. He decided to take a few minutes out of his shower time to rub out the erection the dream had elicited. He hated those dreams, really and truly. He loved Francie. The two had been together for twenty years and had three beautiful children; as cliche as the argument was, it still held water. Normally, the dreams that disturbed him involved the _Top Gear_ events organiser: Phillipa Sage. She was incredibly pretty and flirted with him shamelessly. Of course, this did nothing for his willpower. He confined all sexual acts with others in his head. Especially after the first and only time he had cheated on a partner. Six months after he and his new partner were married, she had cheated on him with one of his best friends. Well, someone who once was a best friend. He had no idea just how painful it was. He realised the mental torture he had put his last partner through, plagued with the thoughts, “why aren’t I good enough?”, “what had I done wrong?”, “was it my fault?”. Of course, he tried to make up for the pain he had caused, but it had only done more damage than good. Jeremy genuinely believed that the person who he had hurt so incredibly much, this person who was one of the three people he had ever loved truly in a nonplatonic way, would never forgive him. Thankfully, as he was in many aspects of his life, he was wrong. He currently sat in that person’s shower, recovering from an orgasm and washing his hair. He normally thought of their past relationship when he had these adulterous dreams. He assumed it was guilt. Of course, the past was the past- all water under the bridge now. He had married Francie, James entered a committed relationship with Sarah, and Jeremy offered James a job on _Top Gear_. The rest was history. Besides, their relationship was only a few years long and way back in the eighties. No one even knew about it. Jeremy was interrupted from justifying his actions when a knock jolted him.

“Hurry up, Clarkson! We have to pick up your car on the way!” James shouted.

“We have time!” he shouted back.

“Yeah, nearly an hour. It takes forty minutes to get there!”

“Keep your wig on, we’ll be on time!” Jeremy smiled. Once out of the shower, he noticed he had received another text. It was from Francie.

**Thanks for letting me know you’re alright. Hope you’re not dead in a ditch or something. See you later.**

“Shit,” Jeremy said aloud.

**Sorry. James and I got a bit pissed. Forgot to text. I’ll see you tonight x**

_Well, that’s me on the sofa._ He dried himself and put on his clothes from yesterday, deciding he would just grab something from wardrobe at work.

“I was right,” Clarkson said as they drove to the pub. “Francie seems to be quite angry with me.”

“She’ll be alright.” James paused. “It’s none of my business whatsoever, and I only care very, very slightly, but I have noticed you have been talking about Francie much more frequently recently. Is everything okay?”

“To be honest, James, I don’t think so. And I have no idea what to do about it.”

“This seems elementary, but have you spoken to her about the problems?”

“We both have. The problem is that I’m working like a bastard, so if I want to talk, she’s sleeping, or if she wants to talk, I’m exhausted or not there. These live shows are going to kill us.”

“We’re not leaving for those until March. I’m sure a few months would give you both enough time…?”

“Not sure,” Jeremy said, getting out of the car as they had arrived at the pub. “Thank you for the concern. See you at the studio.”

  
“Late two days in a row. Want us to move walk-in time hour later?” Richard asked, putting down his phone and looking up from the production studio sofa. “Didn’t you wear that yesterday?”

“Yes, and I’m going to wardrobe to change.”

“Well, why did you keep it on, you disgusting ape?”

“Spent the night at May’s.” A look of disgust crossed Richard’s face, and even though Jeremy knew it was all in jest, it unnerved him for some reason. “We had gone to the pub-“

“I don’t want to hear the details of your sickening sexual escapades!” Richard interrupted. As he said this, James walked in and saw the revulsion on Richard’s face. To this, he smiled welcomingly, flicked him a quick two fingers, and continued walking to makeup. Richard shivered and Jeremy forced a laugh. He didn’t want to seem too uptight. He followed James and grabbed a new change of clothes from wardrobe. Today was the last rehearsal before filming with the audience on Wednesday for the last episode of series 21. He prayed James would be on better form than he was the day before. As it turned out, he would be. It was Jeremy that was off. In his defence, he couldn’t help but be distracted. He was not able to stop thinking of the dream from the night before, and he hated himself for it. When it wasn’t his turn to speak, his mind would wander to Phillipa or that other voice. When it came time for the break, he wandered over to her spot in the production office, striking up a conversation about something incredibly trivial. In truth, she was a decent conversationalist and he was wound up from the rough work day.

“I thought I knew the lines fairly well. At least, I did Sunday night,” Jeremy said, sipping a coffee.

“Haven’t looked over them since?” she asked, barely looking up from her computer.

“When? While I’m writing one of the three columns, the script for the new series, scheduling for the next series, or when I’m planning the live show dates?” James and Richard walked in the production studio. Richard went straight to the sitting room area, while James made a slight motion to Jeremy. Clarkson stood from leaning on the table next to her.

“Jesus, Jeremy. How do you sleep with all of that shit to do?" Phillipa asked.

“I don’t, much,” Clarkson admitted.

“Well, I can help you with that if you play your cards right,” she said with a wink. Jeremy chuckled lightly.

“Brilliant. I’ll talk to you later, Phillipa. The boys are calling me.”

“Damn them to hell. Stealing you on my time.” At this, Jeremy could barely prevent his smile from spreading. James simply said that he and Richard wanted to go over the lines for the next segment.

Once they closed the door to the sitting room, James sat on the sofa and grabbed his script. Richard was already ahead of them.

“I’m not one to meddle-“ James started.

“If I weren’t so bloody tired, I would actually vomit from laughter,” Richard said unsmiling, looking for the next segment in the script.

“Well, not in personal affairs.”

“True.”

“Clarkson, it isn’t any of my business, but I just wanted to say, do you think talking with Phillipa is a… A good idea?”

“Sorry?” Jeremy was taken aback.

“I caught a bit of that conversation and it sounded slightly… Well, flirty to be honest.”

“And what does this have to do with the script?” Jeremy asked. He felt his temper starting to rise.

“I mean if you and Francie are having a hard time, maybe-“

“I did not flirt with her.”

“You may not have, but she was definitely flirting-“

“And when did fixing my marriage pop on your to-do list?”

“Alright, let’s just go over the script,” Richard said, his tone sounding like that he would use to prevent his two daughters from having a row.

“I was just trying to he-“ James started, but Jeremy interrupted him yet again.

“You know, it drives me up the wall how you think you can mend everything. Last night and this morning was just conversation. I didn’t ask for advice.”

“Will you let me speak?” James said, his voice still remaining at a steady tone, tempered with slight annoyance. Jeremy said nothing. “I was only trying to help you, you pillock. Someone from then office leaking the news of your potential affair will do no favours for the state of your marriage.”

“I’m not having an affair.”

“The person would only have to tell the _Daily Mail_ you were flirting. They would turn it into an affair. Besides, Phillipa has a bit of a reputation.  Again, I was just trying to be helpful.”

“Well, don’t,” Jeremy said, annoyed further that James was making sense.

“Have you two got that out of your systems? Can we please run lines?”

 

The rest of the day was tense. Jeremy couldn’t help but bring his frustration back on the set. For some reason he could not quite understand, James’s advice had infuriated him. The shit mood followed him all the way back home and exploded into an awful row with Frances, who was still angry from the night before.

 _Thank god the children are off at school. That’ll save the trauma that would result in thousands of pounds in therapy,_ Jeremy joked with himself. He curled up in the guest bed, lonely, depressed, and hungry. He went to the kitchen and grabbed his liquid dinner: straight whiskey. He spent the next hour drinking and considering his future with Francie.

  
The rest of the week passed, as did the next. Barely a word that was not strictly profession-related passed between Clarkson and May. It wasn’t until the Friday of the second week that Jeremy had invited James to the pub with him, Hammond, and Andy. Everyone else they would consider friends enough feared they would be on the receiving end of Clarkson’s temper. Each of them took a long and satisfying drink from their drinks. All had decided to order food as well. The conversation jumped from topic to topic, mostly focused on the productivity of the last week. They had done a decent job of outlining the script for the live shows in Australia. This was an achievement, considering it was two weeks away.

“Two trips to Australia, a trip to Argentina, Dubai, Turin….” Andy trailed off, rubbing his face.

“Worst of all, Whitby,” Richard chimed in. They laughed.

“This fucking live tour is going to kill me.”

“Mmm,” James hummed in agreement.

“I’m busy enough without the live show,” Jeremy said.

“Mate, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” Andy said, pulling his food towards him. “I’ve noticed you’ve been a bit of a dick lately. You seem stressed. Too much going on?”

“I am the very definition of stress. By the way, uh… James… I apologise for being so horrible to you. You know… Last week.”

“Someone get the camera!” Richard all but shouted.

“Shut up,” James laughed. “It’s okay, Clarkson. But if you have another episode like that, I’ll have to do your head in. And before you say anything, Hammond, that wasn’t sexual.” They chuckled, the alcohol starting to have a slight effect.

“So really, Jeremy, have things gotten any better?” Andy asked, cutting his steak.

“No,” Jeremy said honestly, not looking up. “I had a massive row with Frances the other day. And mum’s… Well, it’s not looking good,” he said, clearing his throat. Every time he thought of his mother and her condition, a massive lump sat on the base of his throat.

“Sorry about that,” Andy said, seriously. Richard and James both expressed the same sentiment.

“Yes, well. It is what it is. Anyway, do we have the flight booked for Australia?” Conversation continued, but never really broke the now heavy weight on Jeremy’s chest. He couldn’t help but think of his mother. It was as he walked back with James to the May household (as Jeremy didn't feel like being alone, but blamed it on the lack of cash for a cab), that Jeremy thought of his mother again.

_I really must go see her before we go to Australia. But what if she looks even worse than the last time. I couldn’t take that. Poor dear. Maybe I should call? He checked his watch. Damn. She’ll be asleep. I’ll call tomorrow. Definitely._

“You’ve gone quiet,” James said, unlocking his door and letting Jeremy in.

“Thinking about mum,” he responded before he could think of a lie. Really, at this point, he didn’t see a point.

“I see. I’m sure it’s rough, mate… I am sorry you have to go through all of this shit at once.”

“The way I see it is life has been incredibly generous to me. I’m overdue for a kick in the arse. Unfortunately, it’s giving me every kick in the arse at once.”

“I could see that. Hey, Clarkson, come here,” James said, walking to the kitchen.

“Sorry, forgot you can’t do the emotion rubbish. You used to be so in-tuned with your feelings. What happened?” Jeremy knew the mention of the past took James off guard. May, for a moment, paused. It was obvious to what time Jeremy was referring. May brushed it off pretty well, ignoring the comment completely. Once completely in the kitchen, James turned to face him.

“So, I asked you to come back tonight for a reason,” James said with a slight smile. For a brief moment, Jeremy’s heart sank and fluttered at the same time. It terrified him that it fluttered at all. James turned and reached into his fridge, pulling out a massive bottle of Jeremy’s favourite rosé. For some reason Jeremy had no interest in exploring, he felt slightly disappointed. James held the bottle with a big, open-mouthed smile on his face and raised eyebrows. Jeremy feigned excitement better than he thought able, falling back on his early acting roots. He really did appreciate the wine; he had no idea what he would rather it be. The two sat on the sofa and drank the entire bottle, talking about this and that. Jeremy did his best to avoid the depressing topics, trying to show an interest in how James was doing.

“Aside from being incredibly busy, I don’t have much going on,” he answered, going to the kitchen and grabbing another bottle of wine.

“Are you still seeing Sarah?” James hummed at the question.

“Who has the time or inclination for sex when they have as much on their plate as we do?” Jeremy laughed at this.

“True. Same situation with Francie and I.”

“I figured, to be honest.” Jeremy knew James didn’t mean anything by this, but it did not stop the small trace of annoyance that cropped up.

_He just likes to show off how much he knows._

“How are you and Phillipa?” James asked.

“James, really, there is nothing between Phillipa and me.”

“Would you?”

“I’m married.” To this, James let out a small hum. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Jeremy asked, his temper climbing quickly.

“Nothing, I just thought-“

“James, will you lay off? Yes, I’ve thought about it. No, I would not act on it. Just because I’ve made mistakes in the past doesn’t mean I’d do it again.” He couldn’t read James’s expression.

“May I speak?” Jeremy didn’t respond.

“I hummed because I’m relatively certain Hammond told us about Lord Grantham having a very similar situation. If you would only let me speak before jumping to conclusions… Clarkson… Since I’ve had quite a bit to drink and you have as well, I think I’ll go ahead and ask something that’s been on my mind. Why have you been bringing up… Why do you keep referencing the past? You do realise if you slip in front of the crew, I’ll deny everything and you’ll look like a lusting nutter.” Jeremy had no answer he could think to give. After some time, he gave the best he could.

“I’ve been thinking about it recently… I have no idea why…Really… Don’t you ever think about it?”

“No,” James said simply. He still had a small drunken half smile on his face.

“Really?”

"Yes, really. I refuse to think about it because it upsets me, to be perfectly honest.” A short silence fell. “And on that bombshell,” James said, slapping his knees and standing. “Back to my bed. I left you some clothes to sleep in after the last time your filthy carcase touched my guest sheets. Thought I’d have to burn them.” He started to walk away, leaving Jeremy with their fourth bottle emptied. He turned to face Clarkson. “Would you be interested in hearing a cod-psychology theory of mine?”

“Hmm?”

“I think you’ve been dwelling on the past because you know deep down your relationship with Frances is coming to an end. That’s why you’re still talking to Phillipa, even though you know better not too. It’s the exact reason I hesitated to enter a relationship with you way back when: You are afraid of being alone. You get bored of people. Just like you had with… Me,” James finished, shrugging with a smile on his face.

“Ouch,” was all Jeremy could say.

“Well, you brought up the past. I didn’t want to be the only one to walk away bleeding.” He turned and started to walk up the stairs.

“May!”

“Hmm?” he asked, turning back again.

“You do know why I left you, do you?”

“As I just said, you were bored with me. Trying to dig the knife in deeper, Clarkson?”

“No. That’s not why. I wanted a family, James. I wanted to be open about my relationship. We couldn’t have one back then. Not with the AIDs scare and our careers were taking off-“

 _“Your_ career was taking off. Not ours. Don’t muddle the past with fantasy. _Your_ career was taking off and _you_ cheated on me.”

“I am sorry, James. I wanted more than you could give me.”

“Yes, that was your reason for ending it, as I recall. Anyway, enough with torture by memory lane.”

“Are you over me?”

“What?” James asked, his calm expression finally cracking.

“I asked if you’ve ever gotten over me.”

“Again, with the sweet brazenness that comes with alcohol consumption, I feel safe to say the answer, one which I surely will regret in the morning. No, on second thought, don’t think I will answer that.”

“James!”

"The only time I had to heal was the few years after you were married. From that period, I healed as best I could.”

Jeremy thought about this. He had given James plenty of time. Or at least, that’s how it felt. What May didn’t realise was that not only did Jeremy lose a romantic partner he genuinely had feelings for, he had also lost his best friend.

  
The next morning, conversation went on as if nothing had been said the night before. James seemed so normal, in fact, that Jeremy wondered if May ever remembered the conversation at all. The next two weeks seemed to fly by and before they knew it, they were Australia bound. The first live show went relatively well. The second, better still. By the third, on Friday, they were fire. The few days they had in-between shows, Jeremy managed to write and edit six columns, leaving him covered for the next two weeks. It was on the Saturday of the second week that everything came to a crashing halt.

“Nervous?” James asked, waiting by the curtain. The two of them were already buckled in their seats on the motorised stage.

“‘Course not,” Jeremy answered. “Where’s Hammond?”

“No idea.” They were interrupted by the sound of Jeremy’s ringtone.

“Turn that bloody thing off! We go on soon.”

“We have time! I’ll be quick,” Jeremy said, answering the call. It was Francie. “Sorry, love, can’t talk. About to go on.”

“Jeremy, this is important,” she said, her tone grave.

“I hate to rush you, but-“

“It’s Shirley. Jeremy, she... She's passed away.” As her words sank in, he could have sworn he felt his heart stop completely. _Mum._ “Jeremy, I am so sorry.“

“Stop. Stop it.”

“Clarkson, you alright?” James asked, a look of bewilderment crossing his face. At this moment, Richard came bounding to them.

“Five till curtain, chaps!” he said excitedly. He jumped on the gear-shaped stage and buckled in right next to James. After seeing the look on Jeremy’s face, he shared an expression similar to James’s. “You alright, mate?”

“Francie, I’ll call you as soon as this ends. How are the children?”

“How do you expect? I brought Katya and Finlo home from school.”

“Did they all have a chance to say goodbye?” Jeremy asked, his eyes starting to well with tears. He glanced at James. May knew. Richard was still oblivious.

“They did. We can talk after your fucking show,” Francie said, hanging up the phone. He turned his phone to off, wiped the tears away, and sniffed before looking up at the two men and smiled. James looked incredibly worried.

“Do you need a few minutes?”

“No. Let’s get this over with.”

“What happened, mate?” Richard asked, obviously concerned.

“We can talk about it later. I won’t let this… I will not have it ruin a show.”

“Jeremy,” James said, grabbing the other man’s arm lightly.

“You’re rubbish at comforting people, May.” That was the last thing they had time to say, as from out in the audience they heard their prerecorded entrance cue. Without further ado, Jeremy turned the key and swerved them onto the stage. Twice during the show, he thought of his mother. Once, when looking into the audience and seeing an older woman who, in that lighting, might have resembled Shirley. The second when they were talking about their visit to Australia. It was in that gut-wrenching moment that he realised he had never gotten to say goodbye. He had been so busy, he had not had a chance to visit her before they left for Australia. He wiped the tear away and pointed at one of the cars.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” He knew by the look he was given that James didn’t buy it and was still concerned.

After the show, the rest of the night was a blur. He remembers crying in the hotel room with Andy and Richard while James went to get the drinks. After that, he thinks he can remember the other two leaving around one in the morning. The image of James holding Jeremy as he cried, as far as he was concerned, could have been a dream. But one thing he was sure of was, when he woke up the next morning around nine, he was completely and utterly alone with a paralytic hangover. It was the last day in Australia; one more show, the goodbye party, and home to they went. Jeremy wasn’t really sure he wanted to go home. The show, like the night before, had gone very quickly. After a less than successful wrap-up party, a few drinks, and a tweet, they all went to their respective hotel rooms. The next morning, they were gone.

On the flight home, Jeremy thought of the steps he must now take. He knew he had to visit her home. Maybe steal back his Paddington before Jo stole him as her own. More than anything, he needed to say goodbye, especially before things were sold off, taken, and moved. He started to think of someone he would have come with him.

_Frances? Christ, no. Emily? Even worse… Hm. Adrian._

**What are you doing?** he texted.

 **Abut to hvae dnner nd wach a flm. I hrd abot yr mmu. Im terbly sory.** Texting Adrian always proved to be a challenge, as the man suffered from severe dyslexia.

 **Thank you.** Jeremy sent. He felt his eyes starting to prickle with tears. **Listen, if it’s not too much, would you mind coming with me to visit her house? I’d like to go tomorrow. I can pick you up from your flat.**

**I'm sry, Curnetly abroad. Cn go next week?**

**It’s okay, Adrain. Thank you, but I’ll ask James or something.**

 

He did exactly this, and of course, James agreed. The next morning, Jeremy drove them both to her modest home in Burghwallis. James decided to take a smoke break after Jeremy’s request for a moment alone. Moments later, Jeremy, tears rolling down his face, sat next to James, who offered him a cigarette. Clarkson happily accepted.

“I know you can’t handle grief,” Jeremy started, wiping his eyes. “I appreciate you coming with me.” To this, James said nothing. He gave Clarkson a quick and friendly pat on the back. They continued to smoke until the pack was finished.

“One more thing,” Jeremy said, standing up and popping back into the house. He soon returned with an old, dusty Paddington bear. “Right. Let’s go.”

“Want me to drive?” James offered, putting his cigarette out and throwing the remnants.

“Would you mind?”

“‘Course not. Where do we go?”

“Shit. I didn’t think about that… I’m not sure I can face Frances right now.”

“Where are the children?”

“With Jo. She offered to have them until the funeral. Then again, they thought I would be back a few days from now…” James gave Jeremy a slightly disapproving look. “I love them, and I know they need me… But I also know that I can’t be there for them like they need right now.”

“I understand. So… To London?”

“Yeah. My flat needs a good clean, anyway. Might help take my mind off of this whole bloody situation.”

“You’re welcome to stay at mine,” James offered, taking the keys and opening the door.

“I’m not sure… Maybe.”

“Well, you have a good drive to decide.”

Jeremy had decided to stay at James’s home. The next day, he drove back to Chipping Norton and had Jo bring the children to his home. They spent the next few days grieving together, as they needed. It was cut short, however, as Jeremy had a live show in Whitby, as well as a whole new crop of controversy surrounding him. It was over a comment he had made in the special, where he said something or another regarding a “slope”. It wasn’t supposed to be nearly as offensive as it was taken; the locals laughed at it much more than the British. The BBC had an incredibly straight face throughout the entire ordeal. Still in the wake of that, he was not able to enjoy his birthday nearly a month later. Of course, the date reminded him of his mother, which meant he spent most of the day crying. As the children had gone back to school, he had lunch with his eldest, Emily, and spent the night eating and watching films with Adrain in Jeremy’s London flat. They had started to film in Dunsfold again, which meant script writing and long days. After five consecutive nights at his London flat, he decided to make the trek back to Chipping Norton. Francie was nowhere to be seen. All of hers that he could find was a few papers she left on the table. He was not exactly shocked to see she had requested a divorce, but it hurt all the same. He spent the night doing as he had done almost every night for the past few weeks; he drank until he fell into a deep sleep. Of course, this meant he was late for filming the next day, which also led to short tempers all around. Only his immediate friends at the Top Gear studio learned of Frances’s request for divorce.

Adrian had stayed with him that night at his flat. He couldn’t bare to be alone, not at the moment. He spent the weekend with James, who let Jeremy mope around in his pants. James carried on typing his columns, cooking for the both of them, and going shopping for the next week's meals. They didn’t properly talk until the Saturday night. Both had a glass of wine and watched _Where Eagles Dare_ on May’s new sofa.

“So. Is she being gracious about the matter?” James asked. “I haven’t heard anything from the _Mail_.”

“She is. That’s one thing about Frances. She’d never drag a reputation unless she truly believed they deserved it. She was just unhappy…”

“Could you say the same?”

“Not sure, May. I was never there to be happy or unhappy,” Jeremy said, giving a sad chuckle that was more of a sigh. “At least she doesn’t want much from me. Just a bit of money and the children, which I’ll let her have. They mean the world to me, James. I’m just never here.” James nodded.

“She is a very kind person, Francie.”

“She is. I still love that woman.”

“After twenty years, how could you not?” James asked. Jeremy nodded. This was the end of the conversation. The rest of the night was spent watching the movie and slowly drinking their way through another bottle of wine.

 

Once the divorce had become public, Jeremy received quite an unbearable bit of unwelcome attention. Phillipa was not a member of that group. He had waited a few months before asking her on a date. A month after that, they went away to the beach for a weekend. As most things in Jeremy’s life for the past year, it went nothing like he wished.

“How did she react?” Hammond asked quietly. They were sitting in the leisure room of their Portakabin production office.

“Not well… She asked the standard, ‘Is it because you’re not attracted to me?’ and I spent the next five minutes holding my limp sausage trying to convince her that was not the case.” James laughed at the image.

“You didn’t…” he could barely get out the sentence through his laughter, which spread to the other two. “You didn’t put it away?”

“Eventually. It was just an incredibly awkward situation. Can’t say either of us handled it gracefully,” Jeremy laughed. 

“So, are you still planning on seeing Ms. Phillipa?” Richard asked, sipping his coffee.

“Can’t say I am. I need to be alone for a while. Get over my fear of loneliness,” Jeremy said. He didn’t need to see James to know the other man caught the reference to their conversation a few months ago.

  
Over the weeks, the stress was steadily building further. Jeremy never properly coped with the shit hurled at him that year. After his mother died there was the slope controversy, followed by more work, followed by the Argentina controversy, etc… Adrian and James were the only constants through the rough times. Between the two of them, they tried to help regulate Jeremy’s drinking. Adrain, a severe alcoholic nearly twenty years ago, was particularly worried. The only good thing to come out of this time was the lack of guilt dreams. He was finally able to sleep in peace. Then again, he thanked the alcohol for this.

With the non-stop work, drinking, and depression, time flew by in a blur. Christmas had come much sooner than he was prepared for, leaving him to order gifts online the week before. Christmas afternoon was spent with his children at his flat in London. He was silently thankful that they did not mention how shit he looked recently, or how equally shit the flat looked. That night he cried over the thought of his mother, something he had not done in the last few months.

New Year's Eve was spent completely clattered at a party, followed by sleeping in the guest room of his new third home, James’s place. He drunkenly thanked May for always being there for him.

Two weeks later, it was James’s birthday. He spent the night, as did Colin, James’s best mate. Over the last year, Clarkson had come to befriend Colin. He, as Jeremy would describe him, was a slightly more boring version of James; he had previously never thought this possible. As a ‘thank you’, Jeremy bought May a new jumper and four bottles of May’s favourite wine. A week after, they had the _Live Evening with Top Gear_. They revealed to their interviewer, Christian O’Connell, that they had still not edited the first program, or even shot the last. Each did their best to keep an air of calm and coolness in their manner, but they each knew the other was putting on a front. Secretly, they were balls-deep in stress. That night was spent with Adrian, talking about how deeply he wished for a small break from reality. Obviously, he wouldn’t get it, but it was still a nice wish.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Last chapter to be posted next Sunday! Hope you enjoy!

 

Each of the presenters smelled significantly better than they had a few hours before. They had gotten back from filming nearly an hour ago, each covered in mud, bits of grass, and god knows what else. Jeremy thanked whatever god there might be that he did not have to give the after-dinner speech for the carbon something or another. Now, each sat at the small bar in Jeremy’s suite; they were joined by Wilman, who voiced how pleased he was with the day’s progress. Clarkson poured himself and May another drink, as each had finished their last glass. Richard was nearly finished his bitter and Wilman claimed he needed to keep a clear head.

“I can’t get this shit out of my hair,” James said, pulling a clump of unidentified matter from his greying locks. “I washed it twice!”

“Funny enough, mate, It’s probably actual shit,” Richard said, smiling.

“I hate the countryside. Wearing it does not improve our relationship.”

“It was a pretty awful challenge. Even for me. And now,” Richard said, draining his glass and standing. “I’ll be on my way. I’m exhausted. Night, chaps!” Jeremy looked at his two remaining guests and hoped James would leave next out of the two. He hated himself for thinking it, but things were different between him and James as of late. Of course, it was his fault for it.

The last three months had been rough for Jeremy. Of course, there was more controversy surrounding him, as well as at least two million things he had to complete week to week. This, coupled with the lack of time he had to have a breath and face his emotions from the previous year had put a great deal of strain on him. Of course, this was easily solved by a fantastic temporary solution: alcohol. The alcohol, Jeremy thought, had lead to the weird air that had suddenly separated him and James. Again, he knew it was entirely in his head. It had started one evening in late January when he had spent the night in his flat for the first time all week. He had passed out on his sofa and was surprised when James had appeared in his incredibly realistic dream. They had dinner in the back of Clarkson’s favourite restaurant with Chopin on in the background, as James had requested. Jeremy woke with a start after dream-James had leaned over the table and placed a light kiss on Jeremy’s lips. This terrified him. What terrified him even more was the lack of disgust he felt. _To be fair, you were in a relationship with the bastard_ , he told himself. Weeks passed, and with them, the dreams continued. They didn’t happen terribly often, and they were always different. One night he dreamt they snogged in Clarkson’s bed. The next week he dreamt they ground against each other in James’s Vauxhall from the University years. That dream in particular upset Jeremy, as he had awoken completely aroused. After that, he was never able to actually maintain eye contact with May. It petrified him when, in February, James had inquired if he had done something to offend Jeremy. Clarkson felt awful for treating him differently based on something he could not control, but as long as the dreams continued, he could not feel comfortable around James. He decided the only way to block these dreams was to drink more. His mind drifted to the last dream he had featuring James, the most obscene one he had in some time, and he could feel his cheeks flush.

“Okay, Clarkson?” Andy asked. Jeremy drained his freshly poured glass of rose´. He poured another.

“I’m peachy. Just got a bit hot. I’ll open a window.”

“Maybe you should make that your last glass, Jezza. You’ve already had quite a bit, and we have to be up early tomorrow.”

“I’m alright, Wilman. I’m you’re perfect example of a functional alcoholic,” Jeremy said, laughing. Neither of the other two laughed.

“Was that a joke or a confession?” James asked. This annoyed Clarkson.

“It was a joke.”

“Was it?” Andy asked. “Really, maybe you should give it a rest for the night, mate.”

“I’ll just have one last glass.”

“Fine,” Andy said, lifting his hands in defeat. “Don’t complain when you have a hangover and the explosions go off.”

“It’ll be okay,” Jeremy said, topping off the bottle.

“Right. Well, I’ll turn in.”

“You don’t have to,” Jeremy said, making his tone lighter.

“Actually, I do if I want a full eight hours. You two don’t party too hard. Save me some heroin,” he said, gathering his things and leaving. Jeremy sighed.

“You really should slow down,” James said.

“I said this is my last glass!” Jeremy shouted. _Wow. That came out of nowhere_.

“Great. Alright, guess I’ll head out as well,” James said, draining his glass. Jeremy sighed again.

“No, James, you don’t have to go. ‘m sorry, I’m just sick to death of people telling me I drink too much. I’m a bloody adult, I can do as I please.”

“Yes, thank you for reminding me. Your actions reflect that sentiment brilliantly.” Jeremy was getting increasingly angry, but his poor behaviour towards James as of late made him feel a pang of guilt. This is the only reason he was thinking about asking James to stay. That, and he felt like he needed a friend at the moment. He tried his best to ignore James’s last statement.

“How about a cigarette before you leave?” James looked at Jeremy suspiciously but still decided to stay. He accepted one from the box Jeremy supplied and pulled the ashtray from the end of the bar so it sat between them.

“So why is it you want me to stay?”

“I don’t know, May. I just need someone here, honestly.”

“Ahhhh. One of those nights?” James asked, his tone softening. Jeremy nodded. “I would have thought you would ask someone else, to be brutally honest.”

“Why?”

“You seem to be a bit… Out of sorts lately. A bit awkward.”

“Yes, well,” Jeremy said, busying himself with saving the remainder of his dinner. “Be that as it may….” He didn’t finish. He could feel his face redden at the confrontation. _It’s only because the last dream I had involved my mouth on your cock._ He could only chuckle at this, but still felt a pang of mortification nevertheless.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Jeremy said. “Should I have one last glass?”

“You have had.”

“You’re right,” Jeremy said, pouring himself a glass of water. Moving made him really feel the effect of the alcohol. He stood on the opposite side of the bar, leaning on the surface towards James. “Think I’ll have a quick one,” he said, lighting a cigarette. They sat in silence for a moment, both smoking. Jeremy felt his heart race and was momentarily worried for his health. After the butterflies in his stomach, he decided the increased heart rate was not due to a physical issue. “Do you think I should stop drinking?”

“I’ve never even implied that. Just been suggesting you slow down. It’s been getting out of control, mate, and I think you’ve been drinking as a substitute for menta-“

“Why does it matter to you?”

“Pardon?” James asked. "You do realise I am answering the question you just-"

“Do you care?”

“Well, yeah- “

“Kiss me.” This shocked Jeremy nearly as much as it had shocked James. He noticed May’s response was slower than it should have been, probably due to alcohol. He knew if he wanted to kiss James, it would be now; he was brave and James was a jovial drunk.

“I-I… Sorry?” Jeremy leant in, putting his hand on May’s jaw lightly. Truthfully, he was expecting a punch. It took him by surprise when James’s eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into the touch ever so slightly. Jeremy closed the gap between them, letting their lips touch lightly before kissing James properly. The feeling of stubble rubbing against his own was old and familiar, almost comforting. Once James had opened his mouth, Jeremy thought he remembered him tasting the same way back in the 80s: he tasted of cigarettes and wine. Then again, not much had changed since then. James was really the only constant in Jeremy’s life. They split, and May’s eyes opened slowly. With the eye contact, Jeremy’s senses hit him like a twenty-ton lorry.

“Go.”

“What?” James asked, confused. Clarkson could see hurt and confusion flash across the other man’s face.

“You know I’m drunk. Why would you let me-“

“You ‘are a bloody adult.’ You do as you please,” James said, throwing Clarkson’s earlier words back in his face.

“Fuck off.”

“Can we please recap the last few moments? _You’ve_ just kissed _me_ and _you_ are pissed off? Fuck you. I’m leaving. I can’t put up with this, Clarkson. I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, and I have no fucking clue what you want from me.” James said, standing quickly. “Some days you can’t look me in the eyes, and now you’re kissing me. What am I supposed to take from that?” Jeremy didn’t know how to respond, so he simply looked away. “Well, you better decide what you want and fast. Let me fucking know,” James said, grabbing his bag and slamming the door behind him.

Jeremy did not sleep at all that night, spending most of it trying to sober up and type an article. He did anything he could to stop the kiss from replaying in his mind, as it brought the intense feelings of humiliation, regret, and something else Jeremy could only identify, to his terror, as excitement. He decided to suppress this feeling. He would deal with it after the more pressing problems.

Filming the next day was intense; it was literally the worst day of shooting Jeremy and Richard could remember. James kept his distance, and Jeremy did nothing to stop this. When the camera wasn’t rolling, which made up 98% of that day, May would ignore him completely. The only thing that pulled Clarkson through the hellish day was the promise of drink that night. They were to have dinner at the hotel, and when the time came, he rushed off location. James sat at a table with Ian and Richard, Jeremy with Andy. After complaining to Andy for nearly an hour, he looked around for his meal. He had not had so much as a speck of dust all day, and the drink was really starting to get to him. After an hour and a half, he called for one of the assistant producers to inquire about the meal. It had been brought out shortly after, the steak hatefully cold. He knew it was a matter of time before he snapped, but Jeremy had no idea it would be over something so trivial. He saw red, coming to and seeing Oisin with a bloody nose. He felt arms holding him back and came to find out it was Hammond and Andy. He looked in James’s direction to see him stumbling over to Oisin, bringing him out of the hotel restaurant. What happened after that, Jeremy could not remember.

  
“Yes. Yes. No. Yes. Of course,” Jeremy said, turning to face Andy, who was also on the phone. He rubbed his temples, trying to relieve the apocalyptic headache that came with his hangover. “Yes. Alright. Thank you,” he said, hanging up the call with the BBC. He felt completely exhausted, sick, and guilty. From what he was told, he had punched the assistant producer the night before. This lead to many problems, one of which he had just hung up with. Andy soon ended his phone call as well, giving a sigh.

“Looks like you’ve been suspended, mate.” Jeremy rubbed his face at the news, taking in a deep breath.

“How does it look?”

“Awful. You’ve attacked a man over a cold steak. There’s only so much you can do for that story.”

At some point during the day, Richard made a stop to check on Jeremy. He informed Clarkson that James was currently trying to persuade Oisin not to press charges.

“You know how persuasive James can be if he sets his mind to something,” Richard said. “I think that’ll be one less thing you have to worry about.”

Jeremy’s phone was ringing nonstop. Aside from BBC calls, he only accepted that of his children and Adrian. Everyone was staggered by the news. Before he knew it, an entire day had passed. It was nearly nine in the evening and he still had not eaten. He finally felt hungry enough to have something small. After a cup of coffee, a slice of bread, and a chocolate bar, he decided to sit on the sofa and turn on the television. It wasn’t long before pictures of James, Richard, and himself flashed on the screen. Frustrated, he turned it off and threw the remote onto the table in front of him. He was on his way back from grabbing his book from the bedroom when he heard a knock at the door. Once opened, James pushed through him gently and walked into the room with a bag of salt and vinegar crisps. He tossed them onto the table and turned around, facing Jeremy.  
“You’re welcome. I’ve persuaded Oisin not to press charges. He was really close t-“

“Why?” Jeremy asked. He was already in an awful mood, and James trying to take care of his issues made his temper flare.

“Pardon?”

“Why did you talk to him? You didn’t punch him. Why not let me handle my own problems?”

“Shut your fucking face,” James said, his volume dropping. Jeremy could see he was trying to stay calm.

“It’s my bloody business, I don’t need you to fix-“

“I handled it because I’m your mate and I know you are under a lot of pressure! A court case wouldn’t help!” James said, starting to raise his voice.

“I didn’t ask for-“

“Will you just shut up and be grateful?”

“I didn’t ask for your help!” Jeremy shouted, throwing the book that had previously sat on the table. It hit the wall with a loud thud, causing James to jump. He looked furious.

“Are you going to swing at me now, Clarkson? Come on. Do it, I won’t be as gracious as Oisin was,” James said lowly. His voice shook. Jeremy stood silently, instantly regretting this exchange. He felt much worse than he had before; twice as guilty and now sad.

“I did you a massive favour. I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, chastising me like a child for trying to help. I have never let anyone speak to me in such a way, and I’ve let you off because I know you’ve had too much going on at once. Not anymore, Clarkson. If you ever speak to me like this again, I will be the one with a court case against me. Do you understand?” Jeremy nodded. “Great. Now go fuck yourself,” James said, turning to leave. Jeremy, reflexively reached for James before he got to the door and was shocked when James gave him a hard shove. For a moment they stood in silence, neither breaking eye contact. James’s breathing was deep and ragged.

“I’m sorry,” Jeremy said quietly. He could feel all of the emotions from the last few weeks start to rush to the forefront. Over the weeks, he had tried his best to suppress them with alcohol. Without any in his system, it was much harder to stop them from coming.

“Right. Well, I’m going to bugger off. Goodnight, Clarkson.”

“No, no, please don’t,” Jeremy begged. James stopped when he heard Clarkson’s voice crack. Tears were starting to well in his eyes. James just watched, waiting for Jeremy to do something. When he didn’t say anything, James spoke.

“I’m not going to be the whipping boy for all of the things in life you can’t control. I will not let you take out your frustrations on me any further.”

“I’m sorry. I really am. I had been drinking-“

“Yes, and what have Adrain and I told you? You have a problem. Look where it’s gotten you.”

“I’m sorry,” Jeremy repeated. A tear spilled from his eye. “I really, truly am.”

“I know, Clarkson. Alright, let’s stop that,” James said softly, handing the other man a tea towel from the table. Jeremy wiped his eyes and threw it back.

“I know you don’t like physical contact,” Jeremy said, his voice still shaking slightly. “But it’s been awhile since I’ve had… Would you mind-“

“You scream at me and I’m supposed to indulge you?” James asked. “Fine,” he said with a sigh. Jeremy smiled as James wrapped him in his arms. Jeremy tightened the embrace. As the smell of May’s hair hit him, he remembered it being exactly the same when they kissed two night ago. He inhaled deeply. It had been quite some time since he had a full on embrace.

“Nearly finished?” James asked from Jeremy’s shoulder.

“Nearly.” The warmth from James’s body coupled with an obscene image Jeremy’s mind supplied from the last dream made Jeremy back up slightly.

“Better?” James asked. Jeremy said nothing. His heart was pounding. With his hands still holding James’s shoulders, he lent down closer to May’s lips. When James did not move forward, Jeremy completed the kiss. A second later, he broke away to check James’s eyes. He couldn’t identify what he saw, so he kissed him again. Slowly, as to not scare May away, he opened his mouth and felt James do the same. Their tongues met, and the kiss became more urgent and passionate as the moments passed. Jeremy let one hand drop to the small of May’s back, while the other sat in his hair. James’s hands had moved to Clarkson’s hips. After a few heated seconds, they broke apart, gasping for air. Jeremy let a hand wander over James’s body, slipping under his shirt and ghosting over the skin of his back, and then up his stomach to his chest.

“Jezza, this isn’t-“ he was cut off when Jeremy lightly squeezed one of his nipples; he inhaled sharply.

“Do you want me to stop?” Jeremy asked, making eye contact. It was quite some time of Jeremy groping May before he could shake his head. James tightened his grip on Jeremy, pulling him so their bodies were flush against each other. Clarkson couldn’t help the small moan that had escaped his lips. They started to kiss again with a great deal of need from both of them. Jeremy let his hands drop to May’s bottom, grabbing him and groping him roughly. James moaned and leaning in to kiss Jeremy’s neck, trailing down to his collar bone. Jeremy grabbed his own shirt and took it off, quickly doing the same for James. He then opened James’s leg slightly with his, just enough to allow access, and placed his denim-clad upper thigh by James’s crotch. He slowly moved it, just enough to get the friction to drive the other man crazy. He remembered May’s way of initiating sex: slow and cautious, just as to not scare the other person away. Jeremy figured if he could turn his partner on enough, they won’t be scared away. James moaned and lightly ground against Jeremy, who moved them to the bedroom a moment later.

Once there, he started to undo May’s trousers and pulled them down. He was caught off guard until he remembered that James never wore pants. He knew May was not going to make any moves; it was probably a defence mechanism. He knew James hated being vulnerable, and Clarkson had hurt him before. He felt a swell in his chest, full of emotion and guilt. He kissed James roughly before doing the same to his neck. It had been so long since he really touched another man. Well, the last man he touched had been James back in 1990. With his mouth on the spot of James’s neck he remembered drove the other man insane, he let a hand drop to James’s cock. It was still only a semi, but after Jeremy spit into his hand, he made short work of giving James a full-blown erection to match his own.

“Jeremy,” James moaned. “Stop,” he said pulling away. Clarkson was incredibly confused until James panted, “It’s been awhile. I don’t want to… I don’t want to come too soon,” he said with a slight hint of embarrassment. Jeremy chuckled and took off his jeans and pants, admitting he was in the same boat. He walked over to his bedside table and grabbed the lube he kept for when he woke up after those dreams of James. Rubbing some onto himself he walked back over to James, wiping the bit left on his hand onto James’s cock. He had completely forgotten how amazing the sight of a flushed James May was, especially when his head fell back as it did.

“I feel like a virgin,” Jeremy chuckled, putting his hand back on James’s hips. “What do we do?”

“I know your memory is atrocious, but it can’t be that bad,” James smiled breathily. “We had more sex than I can recall.” Jeremy laughed at this.

“Two boys in their own flat. Of course. What I meant was, I don’t know… Well, how far would a girl like you go?”

“Why don’t we just see where it goes?” James asked, kissing Jeremy and grabbing their cocks in his hands. He began to move his hands at a slow and excruciating pace, slightly twisting his wrists. Jeremy moaned, letting his head fall back. He couldn’t help but thrust into James’s hands. He dropped his hand, still coated in lube, to James’s ass, letting his finger tease the other man. He knew it caught James off guard, as the other man stopped his hands and gave a shocked moan. He pushed against Jeremy’s finger, which now circled his entrance. “Please,” he whispered. Jeremy slid a finger inside James, watching the other man’s face as it tightened. James bit his lip. He tried to steady his breathing, letting go of their cocks and putting his hands on Clarkson’s shoulders, pulling them closer. Jeremy slowly slid his finger in until it was fully inside May.

“Christ,” he whispered. “It’s been so long.”

“Why don’t you lie on the bed? I’m straining my back,” Jeremy said. He had to lean down to reach James. He pulled his finger out and James moaned.

“You old bugger,” May smiled. He got onto the bed, and Jeremy positioned him so he was on his knees, head on a pillow. putting more lube on his fingers, he started to slowly loosen James. He had to remind him multiple times to relax, especially after the second and third finger had been inserted. He got onto the bed himself, and lined his cock to James’s entrance, slowly rubbing it with the head. May let out a small sound of annoyance, causing Jeremy to laugh.

“Please, Jeremy,” James said lowly. “Man in heaven, I need this so much. Please.” He hadn’t had time to say anything else, as Jeremy had pushed inside of him and did not stop until he was fully in. May let a ragged breath, followed by a string of profanities. Jeremy grabbed the other man’s hair and started to thrust in and out slowly. Before he had the chance to finish, he stopped and pulled out.

“Turn over,” he said, letting his hand firmly grab James’s thigh. After doing what he was told, May grabbed a pillow and propped his hips up with it. Jeremy lined himself against James’s entrance once more, slowly pushing in at an excruciatingly slow pace. Once in, he moved his hands so they rested on either side of James. He was shaking so hard, he could barely support himself. He almost completely pulled out, gave James a deep, passionate kiss, and slammed back in. May cried out, and Jeremy began to build a rhythm with his thrusts. His head dropped to the crook of James’s neck. Through his ragged breaths, he managed to bite James where his neck and shoulder met, causing him to cry out again. Clarkson felt one of James’s hands slip between them and start to pump his cock in time with Jeremy’s thrusts.

“Jeremy… I’m close.” At this, Clarkson propped himself back over James, looking him in the eyes before giving him a light kiss.

“Come for me James,” he said breathlessly. A few thrusts later, Jeremy felt the discharge hit his lower stomach. He could see a bit on James’s stomach and slightly below his sternum. Once looking back to the other man’s face, the expression alone nearly made Jeremy come. James was still riding the waves of his orgasm, panting, and face flushed bright red. It was sinful. He let out a weak moan as Jeremy quickened his pace and soon came inside James, collapsing on top of him soon after. He pulled out and James whimpered, one arm around Jeremy’s shoulder and the other hand in his curly grey hair.

“Man in heaven,” James panted. They laid in each other’s arms, each trying to catch their breath. Jeremy moved away as soon as he felt the tears in his eyes, doing the best he could to stand. He tried his best to sound kind, as to not drive James away.

“I’ll be back. Going grab a wet flannel.” James seemed to hear the slight distress in the other man’s voice.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, fine. One moment.” He walked to the attached bathroom, wiped his body and washing his face in the sink. He was trying to stop the steady flow of tears that had started, to his own surprise. He hadn’t had sex involving this much emotion in at least a few years, and he knows there is no pretending emotions were not involved in this. Once he came back with a damp flannel, James asked again if Clarkson was alright. Thankfully, after Jeremy promised to tell him some other time, James did not push the subject. Neither of them bothered to get dressed. He smiled at the look of shock on May’s face when Jeremy rested his head on James’s shoulder, wrapping an arm around his lower stomach. He could see the beginnings of bruises on James’s neck and shoulder, which he kissed before placing his head back on the spot it had previously laid. James surprised Jeremy with a small kiss on the top of his curly, grey locks. When he was in the space between consciousness and oblivion, Jeremy had forgotten what had happened over the past few months. In his head, it was 1986 again, and he was completely content. That night, head on May’s chest and not a drop of alcohol in his system, he slept the best he had in months.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Better late than never! This chapter has a few dark themes. I do not own these people, obviously. Please let me know if there is anything that could be improved in my writing, i.e. characterisation, accuracy, etc… I hope it was worth the wait!xx

  
Jeremy awoke to a particularly loud snore from somewhere in front of him. He noticed something warm and solid against his chest. Upon opening his eyes, he was greeted by the sight of James’s greying hair, tangled and untidy. Clarkson was holding the smaller man against him, their bodies almost flush from chest to groin. After a few moments of trying to recall what exactly had led to this situation, he rolled out of bed and donned a pair of shorts and a tee. He padded to the kitchen/living area of the suit and started to brew some coffee, as well as tea for James. It wasn’t long after that he was joined by the other man, who now wore the same outfit from the night before. As Jeremy gave him a one over, he noticed that May had a few bruises on his lower neck. He knew they extended down to his collarbone. There a twinge of shame, not only for the bruises but the previous night in general. Jeremy quickly decided he wouldn’t act embarrassed or regretful if James didn’t.

“Morning,” James said, sitting on the bar stool.

“Good morning,” Jeremy said, handing the other man a cup of tea.

“Mmm,” James hummed with appreciation. “Slept well?”

“Very.”

“What, no breakfast?” James asked, looking around. Jeremy chuckled tiredly. His voice sounded rough and deep, not completely awake yet.

“I just woke up! Besides, they don’t have crockery in here. We can grab something from the restaurant later. Of course, you’ll have to cover that first,” Jeremy said, motioning to an area on his own neck. James looked confused until Jeremy pulled out his phone and showed him on the front camera to what he was referring.

“You daft fool,” James said, lightly touching the bruises. He pulled the neck of his shirt to reveal his collar; the place Jeremy had bit the night before left a nasty bruise. He couldn’t stop the wheezy chuckle that left his lips. “You pillock! How am I supposed to hide this?”

“I can sneak over to the makeup girls and ask a favour,” Jeremy smiled.

“Please. I have no way to explain this… Can you get the whole works from them? At least what they use on me. I think I could hide it well enough…”

“Sorry,” Jeremy said, surveying the cabinets. Nothing. “As far as food goes, I’ve got some salt and vinegar crisps. You can snack on that.”

“A nice and balanced breakfast. Do you have a cigarette?”

“Here.” He pulled out the pack and gave him a light.

“Thank you.” James took a long drag. “So. What happened last night?”

“Sorry?” Jeremy asked, taken off guard. “Don’t… You do remember?”

“Of course I remember, you pillock… But what does it… Why’d it happen?” Jeremy was relieved. Better to have this conversation now, rather than later. As far as he was concerned, it meant whatever James wanted it to mean. Preferably something that would continue. He was starting to answer when he got a phone call from Wilman.

“Sorry, I should answer… BBC shit… We’ll discuss this later.” After the conversation with Wilman, the James situation was thrown far to the wayside. As James applied the foundation Jeremy had retrieved for him, the pair separated to pack their belongings. Clarkson’s head spun with possibilities for the future. Realistically, he knew he didn’t stand a chance against the BBC. He was also certain that, whatever the outcome, it would more than likely not be in his favour. It was only a few days later he found that he had lost his fourth child: Top Gear. The moment he heard the news, it felt as if he were hit square in the chest with a fully loaded Range Rover. How many years of hard work? Too many to count.

 _No. This can’t happen… I made that program. I was that program… This can’t be happening._ Without knowing what else to do, he fled to Adrian’s place. He knew the media would be swamping May’s house. He decided to go there later if he were sober enough to walk. Adrain had called James to come over that night, trying his best to limit Jeremy’s drinking. May looked awful, Jeremy had noted. May smiled tiredly.

“I hope you know, I’ve not yet forgiven you. Have you seen the size of the Ferrari bill coming my way?”

“Sorry, James.”

“It’ll take much more that, mate. I might have to sell you out for the money,” James said.

“Did you talk to Richard?”

“I did. He tried to call you.”

“Oops.”

“How are you holding up?” Adrain asked.

“Not too bad. I watched a few episodes of _Top Gear_ earlier. The very first one I was on, as well as the last released. Had a cry and then drove over here. All in all, it’s been a rather lucrative day.” As the night progressed, Adrain and James tried to keep Jeremy’s drinking to a minimum. Later on, Richard had decided to call again, this time speaking to Jeremy. He was informed they had an offer from Russia to work on another motoring show. They laughed at the idea. The night ended with Jeremy crashing on Adrain’s sofa. James was well enough to drive back home.

  
Jeremy was more than thankful that James had been home when he had arrived. “I didn’t actually think to call,” he said, pushing past James as the door was opened. “Can I have a drink?”

“You do know there are establishments near by where you can drink as much as you like,” James said, leading the way to the kitchen. He grabbed the rosé he kept specifically for Jeremy.

“Yes, well… I’ve had a rough day.”

“I knew you would. I had a look at the schedule. How are you keeping?” James asked, handing the other man a full glass. He accepted it gratefully.

“Not sure, really. It was hard saying goodbye. I kept thinking, ‘How many times have I driven ‘round this track? Why did it have to end like this?’ Of course, I know why, but… I’m not sure,” Jeremy said, rubbing his face. “That program was my child, James.”

“I know. I had my last track day a week ago, and that was difficult. I would be lying if I said I didn’t shed a tear or two. I’m proud of you for keeping it together.”

“Cried in the car.”

“Figured you had.” Jeremy cracked a smile at this. He let out a sigh.

“I feel sick.”

“Why don’t we watch a film and get completely pissed?” James offered. “Not as if we have work in the morning.” Jeremy let out a weak chuckle.

“Sounds fine to me. _Local Hero_?”

“Not sure I have that one. C’mon.”

They made their way to the living area, where James confirmed he did not have the film. He did own _Where Eagles Dare_ , which Jeremy decided was just as nice. That sat on the sofa, one of them occasionally standing to get another bottle of wine or a beer. Before the end of the film, they had moved to James’s store of hard liquor. Both knew they would regret this in the morning, but that was much too far away to cause concern. By the end, Jeremy had moved awfully close to James and was almost in danger of touching him. May stood slowly and retrieved the DVD from the slot.

“Any other requests?” He asked, looking through his modest collection. “I have every episode of _Top Gear_!”

“Wow, you must be a true fanatic,” Jeremy tried to joke. “ _Butch Cassidy_?”

“No. Anything else?”

“Why not? I know you have it!”

“What about that train film? _Unstoppable_?”

“Why don’t you want to watch-“

“I’ve seen it a hundred times and have yet to see _Unstoppable_. Reason enough.”

 _Bullshit_ , Jeremy thought. He tried to remember the last time the pair had watched _Butch Cassidy_ together, a pastime that had nearly become a weekly ritual. After a few minutes of thought, he realised they had not watched the film since they were dating; the copy Jeremy remembered James owning was probably the VHS version. He took a sip of his drink and did not pursue the topic any further. It was not until he was well passed tipsy did Jeremy let his arm wrap around James to pull him closer. Again, James did not try to further things but waited for Jeremy to place the first kiss and choose the intensity before he finally reciprocated. Clarkson’s other hand that had occupied May’s thigh moved higher, ghosting slightly over the other man’s lap. The hand continued until it was thumbing May’s nipple, eliciting a small noise from him. May started to lean over onto Jeremy, trailing kisses from his lips, down to his neck, followed by his chest. He slowly made his way to Clarkson’s lap, where he paused.

“May I?”

“Please do,” Jeremy said with a slight smile. Upon releasing Jeremy’s increasingly hard erection, May licked the head tentatively. With an agonisingly slow pace, he took the other man in his mouth; Jeremy could not help the moan that escaped from deep in his throat. He held May’s already messy hair, pulling it out of his face to reveal his cheeks, which now had a very light blush across them. The way they would hollow made him shiver, almost sending him over the edge.  
At the risk of coming in James’s mouth, Jeremy stopped him, ordering him to stand and take off his clothes. Once naked, James was pulled on top of Jeremy, who grabbed both of their cocks in his hands and began pumping them. James held the sides of the sofa, eyes closed tightly, and thrusting into the warm hands. The sight of James, his scent, everything was too much for Jeremy. He came first, soon followed by James. They laid together for a moment until they regained enough strength to wipe themselves clean and climb up to the stairs to James’s bedroom, where they spent the rest of the night.

  
It wasn’t too long that Jeremy, James, and Richard had a contract with Amazon, something they celebrated with one night of extreme drinking at James’s place. Clarkson had gotten so drunk, he had joined James in his bed by the end of the night, forgetting that Richard happened to be sleeping there as well. Thankfully, Richard had blacked out on the sofa, which meant Jeremy just claimed that he slept in the spare room upstairs. The week after this episode, they had decided to have a few week’s grace before they started to look for the office, staff, etc… etc… It was then that Jeremy confided in James about his plans to send himself away to a small recovery centre; not for long, of course, but Adrain had recommended he do this before starting a new chapter in his life. He needed to go into this with a clear head. James, of course, had been supportive of this, going as far as helping Clarkson pack his things.

Clarkson despised the place. It was worse than prison. Worse still, he couldn’t have a drink to cope with it. The determined instructors there had actually tried to force Jeremy into a few yoga positions, which ended in minor injuries and a string of profanities. It seemed like years before he was able to go home. He went to his apartment, aired it out a bit, unpacked his things, and went straight to James’s place.

“Well, hello,” James said opening his door, a hint of surprise in his voice. “Wasn’t expecting you back this soon. Did they release you?”

“No, I broke out and made a run for it. I came here so you can use your penknife to take off my ankle bracelet. May I come in?” Jeremy asked, waiting for James to step aside before entering the house. “They said I’ve learned enough coping skills to function.”

“Time flies when you have a bit of peace and quiet.”

“You can stop pretending like you didn’t miss me,” Jeremy said, instinctively going to the kitchen for a drink. He had to stop himself halfway there. “I know you’re much too dependent on me.”

“How long have you been out?”

“I dunno,” Jeremy said, consulting his watch. “Five hours or so.”

“Right. Did you talk to anyone else on the outside?” James asked, a hint of humour in his voice.

“The children and Adrian. That’s it.” He took a seat on the sofa. James sat in the small recliner nearby. Jeremy was having trouble reading the other man. He wasn’t expecting a parade when he got back, but… Much more enthusiasm than this.

“Did you call Richard?” The question perplexed Jeremy. His relationship with Richard was closer than colleagues would be; he had spent more time with him and James than his children. But he would still not consider Richard to be one of his closest friends. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if Richard knew he had gone to a centre.

“No, I haven’t.”

‘Shouldn’t you?”

“I didn’t call him when I had gone. Not sure he knows I went. Are you alright, May?”

“I am. Just wasn’t expecting this… Dunno, caught a bit off guard is all,” James said. He stood. “Want a drink?” Jeremy saw realisation flash across May’s face before quickly being replaced by the non-readable expression. “I have water… I mean, tap, but… Or Ribena… Or tea-“

“Wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee.”

“Alright.” James walked to the kitchen, from which he called, “How’s Adrain?”

“I haven’t seen him yet. Said he’s still feeling horrible.”

“He should definitely have that checked out.”

“James,” Jeremy said, standing and walking into the kitchen. “You’re acting strangely. Would you rather I leave?”

“No. I mean, I have plans for eight thirty with Colin, but you can stay here if you like.”

“Great. I’ll join you two. I haven’t spoken to Goodwin in ages. How’s he?”

“Fine,” James said shortly, waiting for the coffee to finish and his kettle to boil. Jeremy felt the air of discomfort hang heavily in the room. He looked at his watch.

“I could go-“

“No, it’s fine, mate.” Against his better judgment, Jeremy decided to stay. He did not relish the idea of being alone; more pressingly, he had missed May more than he cared to admit. Clarkson noticed May had perked up ever so slightly when Colin had arrived, but not by much. This made Jeremy then decided that this must be one of James’s depressive spells, which he was prone to from time to time.

The trio decided to have dinner in, not wanting to go to the pub in case it were to tempt Jeremy. It appeared to take all the will power the other two had not to have a drink with their meal. Jeremy suspected the pair were both low-grade alcoholics.

Jeremy had returned to his apartment that night and made plans with his children the following day. He was to see Adrain the day after. _Give the bastard a few days, a week at most. He’ll feel as right as rain_ , Clarkson thought over a cup of coffee and a cigarette. A week later, he was slightly worried to find nothing had changed. The two sat in front of the television, enjoying their take-out; James had broken down and had a glass of beer with his meal. Jeremy was on the edge of giving in to temptation as well. After the movie, James had asked what Jeremy wanted to do. They decided against another movie and could not think of anything that didn’t involve drink. The evening ended soon after with Jeremy going back to his flat, feeling a sadness he couldn’t understand, nor did he want to. He stayed away from James until the first proper meeting for their Amazon show, where all three of them seemed to be in good spirits. James seemed almost completely normal as far as Jeremy could see. There was still a hint of awkwardness between them that worried him. It worried him further that he was caring as much as he did.

In the meeting, the most pressing issue was hiring, choosing the office location (they were currently meeting at the director’s home), and the title. Some perused transcripts, others searching the web for an office space in London. Approximately nine hours after they had met, the group had a decent idea of who they wanted and where they might want to be set. James especially liked that the location would be next door to a Volvo dealership. They decided to make the phone calls and do all of the technical things within the next week.

  
Jeremy had more or less invited himself over to James’s for the second time that week. He had started drinking again and decided it best to drink with others who could keep an eye on him. _Everything in moderation_ , he thought. _What a load of old rubbish._ He waited for James to return from the kitchen with the drinks. On the second trip back, he’d bring the meal he had made for the both of them. If Jeremy was completely honest with himself, he didn’t go over just for food and drink; he had something else on his mind. The only action he was getting these days was from James, and that was only twice before. The last time had been the two of them on the sofa, which was nearly two months previous. They ate together, both on their usual spots on the sofa. So far, James had seemed pretty normal. The drinking started and so did the film. To Clarkson’s disappointment, the night did not play out as he had wanted. He had made a move on James, who reciprocated, and after snogging and a bit of groping, Jeremy stopped abruptly.

“Alright?” James asked, pulling his head away and looking at Jeremy with slight concern. Jeremy could see a look of apprehension in May’s eyes, as if he were waiting for the hammer to drop.

“Nothing’s… It’s not happening,” Jeremy said slowly. He felt his face burn with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, James. It’s not you.”

“No…No, yeah, alright,” James said, pulling away a bit further. “No, I wasn’t thinking that.” There was a moment where the only sound made was the television. “It happens to everyone, you know. The old chap’s just not the same after fifty.”

Jeremy had to try with some great difficulty not to show how much this comment annoyed him.

“I’ve been stressed… Adrian’s not doing too well… The show…”

“It’s alright,” James said, putting a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and giving a gentle rub before taking his hand away. There was nothing Jeremy wanted more at that moment than contact with James, which is why he picked his legs up onto the sofa and laid his head in James’s lap. A rush of emotion that nearly knocked the wind out of him hit Clarkson out of nowhere. In that moment, he needed James’s presence. He needed James. He felt the other man stiffen with the contact but knew he would get over it soon.

“Jeremy,” May said, his voice sounding strange to Clarkson’s ears. Not exactly a warning, but not really an invitation.

“Hmm?” James did not reply. They finished the film and Jeremy slept with James, who had turned to face away from him. Jeremy refused to let this push him away, reaching around and pulling James against his bare chest.

  
One night soon after, he decided to have a good think about his relationship with James. By himself, he made no progress; he only knew he was incredibly confused. As if on cue, Adrain called and invited Jeremy over, his voice sounding grave and slow over the phone. Of course, Clarkson went with the full intention to sort him out and follow up with his own problem with the James situation. When it was said that Adrain had cancer, the thought of James vanished completely from Clarkson’s mind. The only thing he could do was weep for his friend.

  
The Amazon show was on a roll, and they had finally named the damn thing. That was half the work, Hammond had said. Jeremy was struggling to balance work, his fear for Adrian, and whatever it was he felt for James. He could almost feel the relapse breathing on the back of his neck like a great big dog. James “had a spill” a few weeks previous, which had added to Jeremy’s stress. The sling had just disappeared last week, after filming in France. The only nice thing he had going for him, he felt, was that the Christmas holidays were nearly over. The only holiday left was New Years, which he rather enjoyed. He had been invited to a New Years Eve party by a friend from the BBC, funny enough, and was allowed to bring a plus one. As Adrain wasn’t feeling the best, he decided that James would do. They popped from one group of friends to another, enjoying conversation with acquaintances they had not spoken to in months. Of course, Jeremy found the occasional person with a grudge, but the atmosphere was more or less calm and celebratory. James and Jeremy were having a conversation with Clarkson’s old friend, Ian Hislop, when they were joined by someone whose voice Jeremy recognised before the face.

“Hislop!” came a call from somewhere behind him. He turned to see Paul Merton walking towards them.

“Merton,” Ian said, a jovial and slightly drunk smile on his face.

“Mr. May, Clarkson,” Paul greeted them, nodding in their direction. “I haven’t seen you in ages, May. How long’s it been?”

“Not sure,” James said, smiling. “What, 2014?”

“That seems about right. Jeremy, it’s been a lifetime. How long ago?”

“October,” Jeremy responded, sipping his drink. He wanted to walk away from this situation and quickly. He didn’t particularly like Paul, even on a good day. The fact that Merton and James had a short fling back in the eighties right before James and Jeremy had gotten together didn’t help things.

“That’s right,” Paul said, smiling.

“James, when are you coming back on the show?” Ian asked. “I quite liked you there.”

“So did I,” Paul agreed. “You weren’t total rubbish. Who were you against? Reggie, wasn’t it? We should have him back as well.”

“I really didn’t contribute much, if I’m brutally honest. Just tried to contain my laughter,” James said, still smiling.

“It worked,” Paul said. “I truly enjoyed it. I know Ian did as well.” Ian nodded in agreement, having a sip of his drink.

“So, where’s the wife, Merton?” Jeremy asked. “It was a plus one event.”

“Is that why you’re here?” Merton asked. “No, the wife’s at home. She wasn't feeling too clever, so she told me to come out without her. I’m more or less sticking to Hislop, here.” It took all Jeremy had not to make a snarky comment about how he suspected the only way their show had survived as long as it had was because Paul stuck to Ian.

The conversation jumped from television show to the new Amazon show. Several times Merton would crack a joke that would have May braying with laughter. Jeremy was too preoccupied and irritated with this to notice that Ian had done nearly the same thing. A switch had gone off in Jeremy’s mind, and he only saw the way the other two men were interacting.

“So, how’s Suki, anyway?” Jeremy asked when they had finished the topic of work. “I saw the pair of you are in an improv group.”

“Why are you so preoccupied with my wife, Clarkson? Something I should know?” Jeremy forced a chuckle.

“No, Merton, I was just wondering. I met her briefly a while back and she seemed very nice. That’s all.” At that moment, Stephen Fry looked up from another conversation and gave Jeremy a brief wave. “Actually, I think I’ll talk to you two later. James?” he said in a “shall we?” tone, motioning to Stephen with a nod of his head.

“I’ll join you in a mo,” James said.

“Fine,” Jeremy responded. A ball of lead was sitting in his stomach. He was angry, sure. But he also felt sadness brush over him. He recognised the overall feeling as jealousy. This, of course, made him feel even angrier. He joined Stephen, trying to hide his frustration.

 

James unlocked the door and nearly slammed it on Jeremy, who was walking quickly behind him.

“Watch it!”

“Sorry, did I invite you in?” James asked, turning around. He took off his coat and began to walk upstairs. “Lock the door.”

“James!” Clarkson called, doing what he was told and following James upstairs. He began to take off his own jacket, throwing it on the sofa as he started to climb the stairs. “James! Where are you going?” There was no answer, and he walked into James’s room. May was shirtless, standing only in his slacks and digging in a drawer for his pyjamas. “What is wrong with you? You stop talking and all of a sudden you’re pissed off!” James did not answer, now moving at a relaxed pace as if Clarkson wasn’t even in the room. “What have I done this time?” Jeremy asked, lowering his voice. May grabbed his clothes and turned around, walking to the attached bathroom.

“You have a problem, Clarkson, and you need to sort it pretty damn quickly.”

“And what might this problem be?”

“You were obviously uncomfortable with me talking to Merton. I don’t understand why, as he hasn’t done anything to you.” It was Jeremy’s turn to go quiet.

“Let’s just go to sleep,” he said, starting to unbutton his shirt. For a moment, he had a flashback to the end of his marriage with Francie. _Life is just one sick joke, is it_?

“At what point did I invite you to sleep with me?” Jeremy froze. It had felt so natural to come up these stairs and to suggest sleeping in the same bed. For a moment, he felt vulnerability whip through him, followed by the hot embarrassment that replaced it; Jeremy couldn’t handle this, not tonight. Anger flared in its place.

“Are you really just angry about Paul?” Jeremy asked, his voice rising. “I was trying to stop you from making an utter pillock of yourself!”

“And how was I doing that? I spoke to him as I did everyone else-“

“Bollocks!” James emerged from the bathroom at this. “You were practically licking his shoes!”

“I treated him as I would anyone!” James said, his voice beginning to rise as well. Jeremy could tell the other man was trying his best to keep calm. “Besides, he’s married-“

“Didn’t let that stop you from flirting, did you?” James started to cross the room towards Jeremy.

“Even if I were flirting, I don’t know how it’s any of your business. You have no right to be jealous!”

 _Jealous._ The word echoed in Jeremy’s brain. Fresh shame spread through his chest. _You are mine_ , he wanted to say. His built up anger and frustration wanted to take James and _show_ him who he belonged to. _No. No, this isn’t… He isn’t… What’s happening?_

“Well?” James asked, interrupting Jeremy’s thoughts. “I know Jeremy Clarkson is not left speechless. Come on!”

“I was jealous.”

“This has already been established,” James said, lowering his volume slightly but keeping the intensity. “I don’t understand why. We are nothing, Clarkson.”

The last statement cut Jeremy so deeply, he could almost feel tears sting his eyes. Again, it was replaced by a new crop of anger. He walked over to James and grabbed his face more roughly than he had planned to. James only showed defiance in his features.

“Nothing?” Jeremy asked. “We are nothing, right? Then why would you let me do this?” he asked, letting one hand fall from May’s face and trailing quickly down his back before falling with a loud slap against James’s ass. The shorter man jumped.

“Fuck off,” he said, starting to lightly push away. Jeremy held him against his chest.

“Yeah? Well if you want me to leave, if we are nothing like you say,” his lips trailing down to James’s throat. He picked a spot and kissed it lightly before sucking it roughly. A gasp escaped James’s lips. “If we are nothing like you say,” Jeremy repeated. “Why do you so obviously like this?” He ran his other hand from James’s hair down to his already inflating cock, getting a sharp inhale from James. He bent his head slightly to whisper in James’s ear. “Why are you hard if you don’t want this? Why do you want me to fuck off?” He gave James another squeeze through his pyjamas. “Why are you reacting like this if we are nothing?” He asked, stressing the last word.

“Jeremy,” James whispered breathily.

“What? Want me to stop, James?” He grabbed James’s ass with both hands and pulled him close, so they were flush with each other. Jeremy’s hardening cock straining against the fabric of his jeans and now pressed against James’s stomach. He could feel it, but it gave him no pleasure. He was livid from James’s claim that they were nothing, and something inside him snapped. He pulled James’s hair back, exposing his neck. Jeremy chose another spot and sucked it roughly, and then another, and then another. A hand came back down roughly against James’s ass and he jumped again. He pulled the waist of James’s pyjamas down to his thighs, exposing his bottom. He slapped him again, knowing it would be bright red by the time he saw it. He wouldn’t have to wait long for that. He pushed May back roughly onto the bed, almost making an effort not to chuckle when James nearly fell over. He grabbed the bottom of James’s trousers and pulled them off roughly, exposing his legs and almost completely stiff cock.

“Sick bastard,” Jeremy said, followed by a slap on James’s pale white thigh. It left a red hand mark less than a second later. James looked absolutely shocked as if he had no idea what to do. Jeremy saw something mixed with the look of arousal and confusion. It was fear. Slight as it was, Jeremy could see it. A small part of him felt guilt, until a much larger part said, _Why do you feel guilty? You are nothing to him._ Jeremy felt his anger rise again.

 _I won't be ‘nothing’ for long._ He positioned himself on top of James, lining up his body so James’s cock was on Clarkson’s shirt and not against the rough denim. He heard the little voice again.

 _Go ahead. Grind the denim against his bare skin. Show him-_ the small voice was interrupted but a much more logical one.

_I don’t want to hurt him._

_Then what do you want?_ Jeremy stopped the thoughts quickly, not wanting to contemplate this anymore. He pushed against James and began to bite and suck his collar bones. James’s hands flew up to Jeremy’s clothed back, holding him tightly.

“Jeremy,” he gasped again. Clarkson let one of his hands fly down and start to grope himself through his clothes. He then leant forward to reach James’s ear. He bit the lobe, just enough to hurt.

“I’ll show you what we are, James.” He pulled away and walked to where he knew the lube was kept. “You don’t deserve this,” he said placing it on the side of the bed. James watched as Jeremy took off his jeans, followed by his pants. His white shirt remained, the first few buttons undone and revealing greying and brown hair. He squirted some lubricant into his hand and rubbed it onto his cock. This was the most pleasure he had felt from this entire exchange so far. He used the rest of the lubricant that remained on his hand to help ease two fingers into James, who arched his back and shut his eyes tightly at the sudden intrusion. Jeremy gruffly told him to relax, which he did to the best of his ability. After thrusting into James a few times, just enough to open him, Jeremy withdrew his fingers and positioned himself on top of James. He felt his back protest but ignored it. He grabbed a pillow and had James prop his bottom up, allowing Jeremy better access. It wasn’t long after that Jeremy pushed into James roughly. May cried out, his eyes closing tightly. Jeremy withdrew and slammed back in, starting a punishing pace. He knew it wouldn’t be long for either of them. He was over James, arms on either side of James’s shoulders. May’s arms were clawing at Jeremy’s back, driving him to another level of mad.

“You’re mine,” he panted angrily. “This isn’t… Nothing.”

“Jeremy,” James said, voice bouncing with each thrust. He was close to whimpering with each slam. Jeremy could feel May’s neglected cock brush against his stomach with each movement.

“That’s right,” Clarkson said. He stopped abruptly and lowered himself onto one elbow, using the other hand to stroke James’s cock. The rough thrusts continued and James cried out at the suddenness of the movement. “Say my name, James. I want to hear it,” he panted. He was close.

“Jeremy!” James yelled, coming in Clarkson’s hand. It spilled over onto his white shirt. Jeremy slammed into him a few more times and came inside the other man, seeing stars as he did. He withdrew and put his head in the crook of James's neck, breathing roughly. At that moment, the sound of James's small whimpers and heavy breathing was intensely comforting, and the feeling of James’s ragged breathing comforted him as well.

“Fuck,” Jeremy whispered. He lay panting on top of James, his anger receding as his heart rate slowed. By the time he was completely recovered, he felt the familiar sensation of shame rushing over him. James had draped an arm across his back and had the other hand softly playing with Jeremy’s hair.

“Are you going to take off your shirt?” May asked. His voice sounded strange to Jeremy.

“In a moment.” There was a pause. “I was jealous.”

“I know.” Jeremy racked his brain for something to say, but nothing came.

 _What are we?_ he asked himself. He couldn’t work up the courage to say it aloud. A few moments later and he took off his shirt. In the process, he looked up and noticed James’s face still had a blush over it. His eyes were closed and his breathing not yet steady. His hair had not dried from the sweat, some still clinging to his face.

“James?”

“Hmm?”

“Did I hurt you?” Jeremy asked, propping himself on his now bare elbow.

“No.”

“Don’t lie.”

“Did you want to?” Jeremy didn’t respond to this. He honestly had for more than a few moments. He meant to.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Jeremy laid back down and tried to pull James against him. May resisted. “Clarkson,” he started. His voice still sounded strange in a way that Jeremy found disconcerting. “I think this should end.”

“Pardon?”

“Whatever this is. I think we need to finish it here.”

_No._

“Listen, I won’t let that happen again. I let my temper get the better of me. I apologise.” Jeremy felt as if the rug had been pulled out from under him; he was flooded with panic. _Not James too. No, things were going well._ He almost had to stifle a chuckle. Y _es, they were until you fucked them like everything else. Good job, Clarkson._ He looked James in the eyes. They were both lying on their side, facing each other. James looked exhausted.

“I’m not sure I could keep this up. I can sleep with many people, I’d say, and keep it casual. I’m sorry, I don’t think you are one of them.”

“Are you saying you don’t want this to be casual?” Jeremy asked, searching James’s eyes. James only sighed.

“I’m saying I don’t want this to be anything.” Jeremy fought to keep his voice calm.

“Why?”

“I told you, I don’t think I could continue the casual sex. I don’t want feelings to-“

“Why did you let this go on for so long?” Jeremy asked. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” James did not answer. “I didn’t take this as casual fucking, James. Why didn’t you say something?” James turned to face the ceiling. “Were you taking pity on me?” He could see James thinking, but he certainly did not want to wait for an answer. “Fuck you,” he said, moving to stand. James grabbed his arm.

“What did you think was going on between us?”

“I thought it was obvious…”

“No, it bloody wasn’t,” James said. Jeremy shook James’s arm off. He wanted to get out of the room as soon as possible.“You don’t have feelings for me, Jeremy.”

“Well thank you for fucking telling me,” he said, pulling his trousers up. He felt for his cigarette in his pocket, deciding to have one once he left the house.

“Stop getting dressed and come back.”

“You’ve made it plain you don’t want me to spend the night, James. You didn’t invite me,” Jeremy said with biting spite in his voice. He wants to break something, throw something across the room. At James, preferably.

“Stop.”

“Fuck you,” he repeated. He didn’t want to put on his shirt, considering it was covered in James’s semen. He knew he would look silly if he were to get a cab wearing just slacks and a jacket.

“You can’t drive. You’ve had too much-“

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Stay here, Clarkson. You can sleep in the spare ro-“

“Stop, James. Just fucking stop. I’m going home.”

“Will _you_ stop with the bloody tantrum? Jeremy, what did you expect from me?” James asked, sitting up in his bed. “We’ve tried a relationship before and it didn’t work out.”

“Well, it’s different now,” Jeremy said simply, zipping his jeans. He was looking for things to busy himself. In truth, he no longer wanted to leave. He wanted to talk the situation through until he got what he wanted. He wanted to fight for his case.

“It’s not though, is it?”

“It is! I have children, we could come out about it, we could-“ Jeremy pleaded. James rubbed his face again.

“You would get bored.”

“Will you stop acting like you know me so fucking well?!” Jeremy shouted. “You don’t! I won’t cheat again, James! Even with Francie, I’ve had MANY opportunities to get off with some stunning women! I turned down every one of them! I’ve told you that.” The room was silent. “I’m sorry, James. I’m sorry I hurt you back then. But I’m not the same, and I don’t think you’ll accept that no matter what I do. I want to settle down, May. Thought I could with you.” There was another span of silence. James just looked at him from the bed. “Can I make one final plea?”

“Will you get back in bed?”

“No.”

“Then not interested.”

“Why do you want me in your bed so badly?” Jeremy asked. He was frustrated and depressed now. Nearly passed exhaustion with the night’s emotional rollercoaster.

“To keep an eye on you. If I know you even a little, I know you’ll drive home or something as stupid.” Jeremy started to undress again, taking off his pants and jeans with a sigh. He climbed back into bed.

“James, please think about what I’ve said before you turn down something between us. I have changed. Truly. Will you think about it?”

“I don’t want to invest so much of myself into this and it all fall to pieces.”

“It wouldn’t,” Jeremy said. He needed nothing more right now than James in his arms and sleep to take him. He pulled James, who this time allowed it. His head rested on Jeremy’s chest; they were sleeping within minutes.

  
It wasn’t too long before the group had the skeleton crew and a script. Before they knew it, they were off to Barbados. Everyone was thoroughly enjoying the trip, all happy to be back in work. Richard had joked about it being strictly a holiday with a few cameras.

“It’s basically _Big Brother_ , with just two disgusting old men and one very attractive younger man,” Richard had said over dinner. Jeremy had so much on his mind, he didn’t quite catch the joke. He just smiled as if he had. It was James who had retorted. The conversation rolled on for a few more minutes.“So, who’s coming back to mine?” Hammond asked, sipping his drink. “It’s only eight thirty. I wouldn’t mind a good film.”

“Sorry, Hammond. I’m getting on a bit,” James said, smiling. “I need my sleep.”

“You old bugger. It’s so early!”

“I’ll probably read a bit before.”

“Have it your way. Clarkson?” Jeremy was pulled from his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Want to pop over for a film?”

“Sure. Only if it’s a good one. None of that rubbish you like.”

Jeremy and Richard were alone when Clarkson had finally decided to speak up. He was desperate to tell someone about him and James as well as get advice on the situation and knew Richard would be the most neutral ground he could find. He told Richard everything, all the way back to the beginning. The news had staggered him.

“That’s disgusting,” he said, not seriously. He was trying to keep things as light as he could. “I knew you two were acquainted before _Top Gear_ , but… Not that far back.”

“Yes, I know. Hammond, I have no idea what to do.”

“Jeremy, you really did fuck this… You know James has… Trust issues.”

“He didn’t, you know? I think that might be from me…” Jeremy said with a sad smile on his face. He wiped his face and shook his head slowly. He looked up after a moment to see the disappointment in Richard’s face. James, after all, was one of Hammond’s best friends. “I feel awful for it.”

“I can’t really comment on that, Jeremy. As for James… Don’t rush it, yeah?”

“Do you think he’ll come ‘round?” Jeremy asked. Richard exhaled slowly.

“Hard to tell, mate. Couldn’t really say. Normally, I’d say no. If this would have been Sarah, I would have definitely said no. But… I don’t know about you.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, sure. Now, can we please watch this film? I want to finish it before midnight. What’s it called?”

“ _Guns of Navarone_.”

  
The rest of filming went beautifully. One night, when Jeremy and James had been the only ones left in the indoor pool, James had swum to Jeremy and kissed him. It was innocent enough but did not fail to take Jeremy by surprise. Before he knew it, they were damn-near snogging in the water. They left the pool, drying off hastily before moving the party to Jeremy’s room. James had limited that night to wanking, nothing more. Jeremy was pleased to get whatever he could, kissing James as he pulled the other man off. They slept together again for the first time in weeks. The next morning they left, getting on a flight to North Africa. It was a blast, as usual, and none of them had time to catch their breath before they finally moved into their office properly. James had spent the night with Jeremy for his birthday in April, going as far as giving Jeremy sex for the first time since the fight. Days later, they were in Germany. It was in Jeremy’s suite, during dinner and a film, James said, “ I’ve had a think.”

“Yeah? About?” Jeremy asked, chewing his bread.

“Us. I am incredibly nervous and uneasy about the idea.”

“Oh…” Jeremy felt like he had been kicked in the stomach by a CFC player. He swallowed the bread with a tremendous amount of effort.

“Yeah. This is the very last chance I’m giving you, Clarkson. I’m going against my better judgment and will say, yes. I will enter a relationship with you. But if you cheat on me, I’ll kill you.”

“Fair enough,” Jeremy said, pulling James in for a kiss. He had gone from an incredibly deep low to a phenomenal high.

 

“Congrats, mate,” Richard told Jeremy, trying to find something. “Figured it would work out. Where’s the blasted script?”

“Can’t say I’m terribly surprised,” Andy said, taking a sip of Perrier. “Speaking of, where is that bastard?”

“On his way,” Jeremy said, smiling.

 

  
“Adrain?” Jeremy asked. “Alright?”

“Yeah, just so much to take in,” he said with an exhale and a slight chuckle. “I’m happy that you’re finally happy. James is better than me, though. I would have castrated you.”

 

  
“Not surprised,” James said.

“He wasn’t? Not even slightly?” Jeremy asked. He put his feet on James’s lap. They sat on the sofa having a drink after a long day in the office.

“Colin is incredibly perceptive. And I had stayed with him after we broke up in the eighties. Remember? I think he knew, just spared me the embarrassment.”

 

The relationship was kept a secret with relative ease. Nothing changed between them when in public; only when in private did they show any form of affection. It had been decided they would stop caring as soon as _Grand Tour_ ended. The attention from the relationship would be too much for any of them, including Richard and the others.

April came around, and so did Jeremy’s 57th birthday. It was the first time James had spent time with Jeremy’s children as more than Clarkson’s colleague. Aside from the slight awkwardness at the beginning, the rest went beautifully. They had spent a fantastic day in the Cotswolds. He felt as if he were any happier, he might actually explode.

The summer of 2017 could have been better. With Richard’s wreck and Jeremy’s pneumonia… James had his work cut out for him. He had tried to quit smoking with Jeremy but was finding it much more difficult than he had expected. Jeremy could see how hard James was trying and appreciated in nonetheless. He thanked James endlessly and tried to keep the whining to a minimum, as James would work nine and half hours a day, come home, and take care of Jeremy. If he had an appointment, his daughter would bring him so James wouldn’t have to leave work. Clarkson felt loved. One day in late August, he was laying in bed with James, who had an arm draped over Jeremy’s side. Clarkson turned to face James. Both were exhausted, as they had just made love for the first time in nearly a month.

“James?”

“Hmm?” May asked sleepily. His eyes remained closed. Jeremy wiped the sweaty, greying hair out of James’s face tenderly.

“James?”

“What?”

“I love you.”

“Yes, and I love you.” James pulled Jeremy down so he was lying on James’s chest. “Now go to sleep.”

“I’m not tired,” Jeremy lied.

“Well, you didn’t have to do all the bloody work.” Jeremy chuckled. He was already starting to fall asleep. It wasn’t long that he heard James snoring above him. He concentrated on the sound, soon drifting off himself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
